


Written on the Sky

by baccuroth (orphan_account)



Series: Written on the Sky [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/baccuroth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin meets a talented young pianist in 1937 Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written on the Sky

Erwin had heard hundreds of songs in his hundreds of years. Primitive beats reminiscent of painted caves and scraped hides. The tinny clang of a harpsichord against the reek of hair powder. A lyre plucked by the delicate fingers of an abnormally lovely girl. Even a flute in Japan where he’d spent a wonderful summer.

He had never heard anything like this, however. It was a trespass, a pinning down by a lover when he wanted to be utterly dominated. It was slow and fast and Erwin’s fingers dug into his thigh as the last notes faded away like the aftertaste of an exquisite vintage.

Levi Blum, he understood, was the darling of the Paris music scene at the tender age of nineteen. He was small and well-off and Jewish. Ethnically, at least, from Erwin had learned.

Jewish was often an unfortunate thing to be in Europe. Even Erwin, far removed from the world as he had become, knew that. He recalled stories of the plague, rumors that Jews had poisoned wells. Their slaughter had been more than assured due to hysterics.

"I believe he studies music at the Sorbonne," someone near Erwin said as they waited to spill out of the concert hall and into the mid-spring air.

"He plays beautifully," a young woman remarked.

Erwin turned back to see the man in question walking down the steps of the stage. A young woman with strawberry blonde hair took his arm and pressed a kiss to his cheek before leading him to a small group of admirers. He looked sad and distant. Erwin thought the music had been terrible and beautiful; startling, really.

He had heard the darkness at the heart of the bright, light song.

* * *

Levi’s routine was etched in stone.

He rose early, broke his fast with tea and a light breakfast, made himself up for the day, and then walked the two miles to the Sorbonne. He worked until noon - lunched at a nearby café - and proceeded in his studies until late afternoon whereupon he walked back home. He then practiced for two hours, dined with his parents, and retired to his room to read or write or turn in early. It was an easy schedule to rearrange if a dinner, visiting relative, or date with his fiancée came up.

It had been thus since he started his music studies at the Sorbonne the previous year.

Levi rarely had much to think about on the walk back, a jaunt through the Luxembourg gardens since the weather was finally warming, but today he was consumed with the thought of someone watching him in the music room that afternoon.

He had been working on a Chopin étude - had yet to master the damn thing - when he felt a darkness settle over the airy room. He had looked around. Only polished parquet, stiff curtains, and cloth-covered pianos.

Levi never called out to his parents when he arrived home. His father would be at the office and his mother would have already retired until dinner. That left him with some time to himself.

He put the fingertips of his right hand on the palm of his left and pressed down until the fingers bowed. The same was done to the left hand. Back and forth until the ache of playing was gone.

Levi pulled aside the curtains. That feeling had settled on him again. The street was no different than usual, full of people and cars and the sunshine streaming down the wide boulevard.

A knock came at the door.

"Oui?"

The maid entered with a tray. ”Tea and a note from mademoiselle Ral.” She left with a saucy smile.

Levi ignored the note, taking his cup back to the window.

Someone had to have been watching him, he concluded. He had never felt so tense on the bench before, not even during his audition for the Sorbonne.

* * *

Erwin had changed none. He had come close on several occasions but the thought of being in charge of a fledgling held little appeal for him. He had always kept to himself. There had been lovers, of course - almost six hundred years was too long to keep an empty bed - but none of them had stayed. They had either died or parted ways. He had become an observer - a badaude, as the French said - and came to know the people of the world intimately.

This boy was harder to read, however. Erwin had all but stumbled across him. He hadn’t been to Paris in years and, truth be told, there was little there to keep him for long. It was all nice and fading light and a river that looked grey and green and brown instead of blue. Paris only its art going for it, he thought, and this fine-boned pianist whom Erwin was still trying to figure out.

Erwin nursed his coffee. He didn’t require sustenance, liquid or otherwise, but it was a necessity around humans. The café was bustling as it was nearly time for lunch but he had managed to secure a table near the curb.

He stirred another spoonful of sugar into the dark liquid as the scrape of shoes on stone filled his ears.

"Guten Tag!"

Levi’s hand clenched on the handle of his valise. He replied in kind. His grandparents were German and he spoke the language fluently.

"Do I know you?"

"No. I’m Erwin." He held out a hand. Levi studied it for a moment before shaking it, firm and short. "I heard you play the other night. Your talent is beyond anything I’ve heard before."

Erwin didn’t know why he expected him to blush because he didn’t. Levi, he decided, was probably used to such praise. From the looks of it, it even annoyed him.

"Do you normally listen to students play?"

Erwin could detect the double meaning in his words.

"Not particularly. I’ve heard good things about you. Would you care to join me?" Erwin looked around. "It seems there are no other free tables."

"I suppose I have no other choice, then," Levi said with a sigh. He set his valise on the table and went inside to order. When he returned, Erwin was drinking the last of his coffee.

Levi dug around in his bag, drawing out a lighter and cigarette case. He plucked out a hand-rolled cigarette, cupping a hand around the flame.

Erwin thought smoking was a filthy habit, but Levi made it look almost elegant. Those long, pianist fingers against the stark white paper, wisps of smoke escaping his finely-sculpted nostrils. He looked like a petulant gamine but there was nothing feminine about that face. After a few long pulls, he snubbed out the cigarette and politely blew the smoke away from the tables.

"What?"

Erwin looked away, realizing he’d been staring. “Pardon me.”

Levi lifted a thin brow. His food arrived - his usual, steak and fries - and he dug in immediately. He didn’t have an unlimited amount of time before his next class.

"How long have you played?"

"Since I was three. My grandmother taught me."

"Do you live with her?"

Levi swallowed. “No. She lives in Cologne. Lived, I suppose. I live with my mother and father on the bank.”

"No siblings?"

"Why are you so interested in my life?" Blood dripped off his knife. "What about you? Where are you from? How old are you?"

"I’m German and I’m older than I look."

"You’re a strange man."

Erwin’s laugh was genuine and loud, attracting the attention of the surrounding tables.

"You aren’t the first person to say that."

Levi finished the rest of his meal in silence and Erwin took note of the delicate strength of his throat as he swallowed. His teeth ached at the thought of kissing that throat, drawing blood to lazily lap at as they lounged on a soft bed far from this moldering city.

Erwin checked his watch, looking up when Levi tucked a few bills beneath the edge of his plate. He stood and buckled his valise.

"Were you watching me the other day in the music room?"

Erwin tucked his watch back under the cuff of his shirt. “Yes,” he admitted.

"Why?"

"I don’t have an answer for that."

"You’re a strange man," Levi said again with a shake of his head before walking out into the street and out of Erwin’s line of sight.

Erwin paid for his coffee and took his coat from the back of his seat.

What Levi didn’t seem to realize, Erwin thought, was how strange they both were.

* * *

There was so much blood. And disease. The air reeked of it, filled with ash as it was. Levi stumbled in a dark field, wingtips catching on everything he couldn’t see. Charred bones with bits of clinging flesh. Viscera strewn across flowers of red and yellow. The smell of… was it gunpowder? He couldn’t be sure. There were noises in the distance, terrible and frightening. It was like a piano being thrown down stairs, the cries of children as they were pulled out of frigid water only to be held under again. It welled inside him, manifesting in a sick feeling that bloomed from his mouth like the stained flowers he crushed underfoot.

He woke with a start. The air in his room wasn’t overly warm but Levi could feel the sweat sticking his night shirt to his back. He pulled it off and dropped it over the side of the bed before flopping back down.

What had brought this about?

Petra had come over for dinner that night. It was the only thing that had happened that day apart from his usual classes.

Levi wasn’t entirely sure why he called her his fiancée. It was a good match for them both so Levi went along with it. Marriage was still several years off.

Petra was pretty and pleasant. She never gushed over Levi’s musical talent as everyone else did and she was fairly good about knowing when he needed space. Few people, he decided, were so lucky. He didn’t love her, though. A future with her was mired in Old Paris with dinner parties and an apartment in an important neighborhood and a few children with his hair and her eyes.

No. The dinner couldn’t have been what sparked such nightmares. Petra had only charmed his mother and even made a smile settle across his father’s thin blade of a mouth.

Levi sat up again and drew his knees against his chest. He was suffocating in this boiler of a room. Throwing open the window, he breathed in all the different smells. There were no bones here, no drowning children or blood.

His head rolled back with pleasure only to snap forward.

The man at the café. That had to be it. The one chink in the chain of routine.

He had been handsome, a decent conversationalist. Levi had been out of sorts the rest of that day and he’d even left his last class early, his hands unwilling to do what his brain told them.

"I’m German and I’m older than I look."

The way he’d said that…

Levi had wanted his tongue in his mouth, the way he said that.

What would his grandmother think if knew he harbored such fantasies? What would his long-forgotten god?

Levi rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and turned toward his bed, leaving the window open. Soon, the silence would be filled by people and cars. Even the sunlight made a sound in Paris.

"Are you alright, Levi?" Petra had asked at dinner, placing a hand on his.

"Yes," he had said slowly, squeezing her fingers before tucking his hand under the table. "It’s merely been a long day."

Her smile had been so sweet. It was moments like that that made Levi feel guilty for not really loving her.

* * *

Erwin had watched him for the next two days. The tension had fled from his shoulders and he wasn’t sure if Levi was unaware of his presence or silently welcoming of it.

He could read the pianist’s mood based on what he played, be it fast or slow, bleeding emotion or a simple exercise to warm his fingers.

A jacket was draped across his shoulders, too big for his small frame, and Erwin wanted to fix the collar where it had twisted awkwardly against the nape of Levi’s neck.

He left him alone after that, exploring more of the city. The sunlight here didn’t bother him as much as other places but Erwin still preferred the darkness. Perhaps he could lure Levi out for a walk after class one day, dappled by the sun through the leaves in a park.

His hunger had grown sharply since that cup of coffee at the café. He spent long nights thinking of Levi’s voice and how bored his eyes were against how passionate his fingers were on the ivory keys. He wanted to kiss that dour mouth until Levi arched against him like a pleased cat.

"Have you been following me?"

Oh. He had not been expecting this.

"No. I am new in Paris and wished to see where so many lost their heads during La Révolution." Erwin already knew, having seen a king beheaded there when it was still called Place de la Révolution. "Might I ask why you are here?"

"I always take this way home. It’s better than going by the Avenue de l’Opéra."

Erwin didn’t press for an explanation. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”’

"Are you that curious to find out where I live, strange man?"

Erwin shrugged. “I promise not to use it against you.”

"Alright. I do have some questions, if you don’t mind. You said you were German," he pressed on, as they headed toward Rue Royale. "What is really going on there?"

* * *

The stone upon which Levi’s daily routine had been etched was slowly wearing away beneath the water of Erwin’s presence.

They met after class almost every day and walked. The nine miles along the Seine, both Bois, and finally the cemeteries and catacombs.

Notes from Petra went unread and even Levi’s father began to take an interest in what he was doing.

"Nothing. I’m simply getting to know the city better," he had told him.

Erwin was well-traveled, something Levi wished he were. He had been to Germany to visit his grandparents as well as the south of France and northern Italy. He craved so much more than that. Erwin spoke of American and Asia, a place that sounded so different from what Levi had expected.

"You’ll go someday. The world needs to hear you play, Levi."

Levi looked at his hands. There wasn’t much that was special about them, he thought.

Mostly, they talked about the Nazis.

Levi knew little about the outside world. He caught snatches of current events during lunch but little of it was of interest or affected him directly.

He hadn’t paid much attention when his grandparents (who actually observed Shabbat, unlike Levi and his parents) had moved from Cologne to Brussels, but from what Erwin had told him, it had been for other reasons besides a change of scenery.

"Germany is not a pleasant place to be if you do not share the NSDAP’s views."

The wind had picked up then and Erwin tugged his collar up before slipping his hands into his pocket. Levi’s grip tightened around the handle of his valise.

"And if you are a Jew," Levi added softly.

There was little about his appearance that was telling of his ethnicity, Erwin thought. His face was almost delicate, his complexion pale. Even his nose was straight and slightly snubbed at the tip. It wouldn’t stop the Nazis from destroying him, Erwin knew that much. He had read what everyone was willing to ignore in Hitler’s Mein Kampf.

They had stopped walking, taking a break on a bench beside the Canal Saint-Martin. Erwin chanced brushing Levi’s hair off his cheek, surprised when he didn’t start at the touch. His fingers lingered for a moment, cold against the crest of Levi’s cheekbone.

"Would you leave Paris if you could?"

"Yes. It’s all I think about when I play sometimes."

'I will take you away from here forever,' Erwin wanted to tell him.

"I should go home." Levi looked into the sky, darkening with storm clouds. It always held so many messages he was unable to read.

"Yes." Erwin frowned.

They walked to the corner of Boulevard Haussmann and Boulevard des Italiens.

"Where do you live?" Levi asked, about to step off the curb. "It is only fair since you at least know my street."

Erwin pursed his lips. “At the Place des Vosges.”

Levi’s eyebrows rose.

"Somehow that crumbling place seems to fit you. Goodbye, Erwin."

"Adieu, Levi."

* * *

Erwin’s guts roiled with hunger so he hunted that night. Paris slept like a drunken whore-monger so it was easy to pick off those stupid enough to be outside after dark.

His thirst wasn’t slaked by even two meals and he cursed, wiping his bloody mouth on his hand.

He was hungry for Levi. He wanted to suck those talented fingers into his mouth, pin them between strong teeth while he lapped at the delicate web of flesh between. He wanted those thin, pissy brows knit together as he took Levi hard and slow and perfect.

His third meal was taken too close to home and Erwin cursed himself as footsteps sounded at the entrance of the alley. He finished drinking with an obscene slurp, tearing out the woman’s throat as he pulled away too quickly.

"Erwin?"

He swallowed, blood like poison as it went down.

"Levi…" His voice sounded inhuman.

Levi walked forward cautiously, the light from the buildings on other side picking out his creased brow, the sheen of sweat at his hairline. He looked at the figure in Erwin’s arms.

Erwin dropped her, a sickening sound.

Levi looked back to him, reaching into his pocket for something. He licked his lips, looking once more at the dead woman, before meeting Erwin’s eye. Rising onto the tips of his polished shoes, he wiped at the blood and tissue on Erwin’s mouth and chin with a handkerchief. His hand shook until Erwin steadied it with his own.

"There."

He pressed the bloodied thing into Erwin’s hand before running out of the alley.

Erwin didn’t call after him and he waited a long minute before leaving the scene himself. He thought he could hear Levi’s shoes striking the ground as he walked to a blazing streetlight on the Rue des Francs Bourgeois.

Lifting it to the lemony light, Erwin fingered the handkerchief; “L.E.B.” was embroidered in a corner.

It was the beginning of the most beautiful word in his native tongue.

Leben.

Life.

* * *

It was the first time Levi had ever skipped classes. He barely slept the night before, fingers raking through his hair again and again. The air shifted from freezing to boiling and he switched from tossing and turning and pacing. He smoked by the open window, weighing decisions until the sun rose and long after.

At nine o’clock, the maid knocked on his door.

"Monsieur Levi? Your mother is wonderi-"

"Leave me alone!" he screamed. "I am twenty-years-old, for God’s sake. Leave me alone!"

He threw himself against the door as it opened, engaging the lock. His breath came in frightened bursts as he sank to the floor.

The way Erwin had said his name. In the year he’d known the man, Levi had never heard his voice sound so guttural, so foreign. He thought of Erwin’s fingers on his hand as he wiped the blood from his lips. It had been a touch of genuine thanks.

There was muttering outside his room. The maid had undoubtedly gone to his mother and, if she were feeling well enough, would come to check on him with a sickly “are you alright, mon cher?” and Levi wasn’t certain how he would react.

He stood up as the door rattled behind him.

"Levi?"

He threw some things into his valise and buckled it.

"Levi!"

It was his father. How long had he been sitting on the floor, thinking about Erwin’s touch? Those fingers on his skin had sent something hot and unguarded shooting to his groin.

He put the strap over his head and settled it on his shoulder.

"Levi."

Levi stopped walking, looking back at the people he had pushed past to get to the stairs. The voice didn’t belong to his father.

"Petra…"

"Where have you been? I’ve written so many letters… I understand if you’ve been busy with your courses but-"

"No. It isn’t that." Levi looked from Petra’s sad eyes to her father’s stern face. The maid fidgeted uncomfortably. "I’m sorry, Petra."

He turned on his heels and quickly descended the stairs before his father could call out again or Petra came running after him.

* * *

Erwin read in his small apartment. There were piles and piles of books and he devoured them like air and water and bread. He had read Goethe and Gide since coming to Paris, a bit of his old home with a healthy dose of his new one.

Noon bled into one o’clock and he boiled water for tea. It was the only thing he could stomach that wasn’t blood. The rich, dark aroma filled the small space and he opened the window in his bedroom to bring in some cooler air.

A knock came at the door as he set the kettle down.

Levi was the last person he expected to see despite his being the only person Erwin really knew in the city.

His expression was blank but Erwin could see thoughts sparking in his eyes like cinereal lightning.

"How did you find out where I live?"

"It wasn’t difficult." Levi pushed past him. "You can learn things by asking."

Erwin walked into his bedroom just off the small kitchen and picked up his book. He had come to admire Levi’s manner of speaking. The first time he had sworn had made Erwin laugh. It had been so unexpected yet fitting for the young man.

"What are you?" Levi stood in the doorway.

Erwin closed the book. “What do you think I am?”

"My grandmother told me about the aluka as a boy. It means ‘leech”’ but…” Levi shook his head. “This is ridiculous.”

"That is one way to describe me, I suppose." A smile touched his lips. "And, no, it is not so ridiculous. I was in denial myself when I was turned. My stomach growled for blood but the very thought repulsed me. It wasn’t until I had my first meal that I realized it was real and that it was wonderful."

Levi took a step back.

"Did you feel any hunger for me when we met?"

"Did I want to taste your blood, you mean."

Levi’s fingers dug into the door frame.

"Yes."

"Not immediately. I was too distracted by your piano playing."

Erwin moved around the stacks of books in his room like a wisp of smoke and he was soon standing a few feet from Levi. He towered over him but Levi didn’t balk at the proximity.

"I never wanted you to see me like that."

"But I did."

"And you’re handling it incredibly well." Erwin reached behind Levi to pick up his cup of tea. It was black as old blood. "Would you care for a cup? It is just tea," he added, taking in the disgusted expression on Levi’s face.

"My throat is parched."

Erwin laughed softly, moving around Levi to pour out another measure of cooling tea. He guided him toward the lone sofa in the living room and handed him his cup on a saucer.

Levi took a long sip. His hand trembled.

Erwin took his own jacket from the back of a chair and set it on Levi’s shoulders despite its bigness.

* * *

Levi collapsed onto the sofa the instant Erwin took his empty cup away. Erwin washed it, set it aside to dry, and went back to the pianist.

He looked exhausted, all weary eyes and a twitch in his jaw. Erwin lifted him easily; he required little sleep so Levi could use his bed until he was well-rested.

Levi was like a restless child, all curled fingers and whimpers, and Erwin couldn’t stop himself from brushing Levi’s hair back from his face before standing to leave.

"Stay," Levi said softly, a hand wrapping around Erwin’s forearm.

"Levi…"

His grip only tightened and Levi went still.

Erwin moved Levi’s hand into his own and sat on the edge of the bed. The space was too small for them both and soon their combined body heat made it sweltering despite the open window. Erwin tugged open the collar of his shirt and took in a deep breath.

"Would you run away with me if I asked?"

"You know I would."

Erwin’s eyes snapped open. Had he said that aloud? He looked down and met Levi’s bright yet tired gaze.

"Do you know what’s going to happen, Erwin? Is Germany… Are the Nazis-"

"I think so. I’ve seen so many revolutions and wars and they are all so damn devastating and this feeling in my stomach always precedes it. Always."

Erwin swallowed thickly. He didn’t tell Levi it was dread as much as it was affection.

Levi sat up. His hand was still clutched in Erwin’s. Its coolness felt good against the warmth of sleep. He looked at the skin revealed through the open neck of his shirt.

Erwin’s fingers slid across his throat and his breath hitched as he picked up the thread of Levi’s pulse. It was hammering against his fingertips, shooting up face to color his cheeks.

Levi lifted himself enough to kiss him. Erwin kept it gentle, knowing that he would drain Levi into death if he tasted even a drop of his blood. Levi was eager for more, however, and clutched the collar of his shirt, pulling himself onto Erwin’s lap.

Levi’s attention was clumsy but Erwin didn’t mind. He had taken so few lovers in all his years that just being so close to someone made his mind whirl maddeningly.

"Slowly," he reminded him, falling onto Levi as he was pulled down.

"No. I want this."

Erwin leaned in close, put his lips to Levi’s ear. ”I would tear you to pieces if you gave me the chance.”

He could feel Levi through their clothes, a hard press into his stomach. Levi’s breath was hot against his throat.

They were kissing again, grabbing and undressing, and Erwin knew this isn’t what they should have been doing.

Levi’s hips cradled him, grinding in a way that had Erwin’s fingers carding through his hair, holding him down as he gathered what they would need from his bedside table.

* * *

Levi blew smoke out the window. It was late at night or possibly early morning. Time had no meaning when he was with an ageless being. Erwin’s fingers drew a lazy pattern on his naked back.

"Do you think they’re looking for me? Petra and my parents? They were the only people I had, really. Even my professors only saw me as something to mold."

He snorted softly, a puff of smoke spouting from his nostrils. Looking over his shoulder, he met Erwin’s blue-blue eyes.

"Everyone is looked at that way to some extent. My father wanted me to marry, better our station in life, and I did. My wife’s handmaid turned me three weeks after our wedding."

Levi wanted to know more but didn’t feel the need to press him for information. He snubbed out his cigarette and leaned over the edge of the bed to take something off a nearby pile of books

It was a German newspaper, thin sheets and a Gothic masthead. He read for a long time.

"Is this all true? Why does no one know about this?"

Erwin plucked the sheets from his fingers and set it aside.

"People do not want to think such things can happen, even to a people who have always been scapegoats."

Levi fumbled for another cigarette. ”Is this why my grandparents moved to Belgium, is this…” He tossed the crumpled back aside and rubbed the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. ”I have to do something. Erwin. We-“

"Run away with me."

"Like some coward?" Levi spat out.

"Please, trust me. I have seen this before. Even your own countrymen… Haven’t you heard of the Great War, Levi? Haven’t you seen the pictures and read the stories? This could be so much worse and I cannot let you evaporate in the storm that’s about to take place."

Levi’s eyes went wide. ”This is my home, Erwin. I was born here.”

"You said you wanted to leave Paris more than anything."

"That doesn’t mean I’m going to let it burn to the ground!"

Levi climbed over him, pulled on his clothes.

Erwin remained silent as he picked up his valise and tore out of the apartment. Levi needed some time to himself. He could only hope he made his way back of his own volition. Erwin would need to feed soon and he wasn’t entirely sure he couldn’t find a meal in Levi if he found him wandering the streets that night.

* * *

Erwin was restless that night, his small apartment unable to contain his boredom. He wasn’t hungry but the streets with their pools of dark between lamplight appealed to him.

The air smelled hot and Erwin wished he had left his coat inside; walking with his shirtsleeves rolled up, collar open sounded pleasant.

He was thinking of anything to keep his mind off the way Levi had left that morning.

Erwin wandered for hours, sneaking past open gates to explore centuries-old courtyard. He imagined the concierges scaring him away in the daytime. Night draped Paris in a paint-stained drop cloth. He could see how it had produced someone like Levi.

"Die, Jew scum!"

Erwin was only able to understand two of the words and they were the most important. They weren’t far off and the part of Erwin that had seen people killed for the pennies in their pockets forced him to move in that direction.

There was a scuffle, a body thrown against a crumbling brick wall. Someone gasped. There were three men on one, a well-aimed kick making the fourth grunt and moan.

Erwin walked down the narrow allow with nonchalance. He listened for changes in the beating but the men took no notice of him.

He stopped mid-step. Erwin would remember that raven-dark hair anywhere.

The first man fell of a snapped neck, head lolling grotesquely as he hit the ground. The second backed up against the wall, screaming as his arm was bent unnaturally. Erwin let the third go as he finished with the second.

By this time, Levi had sat up and pushed himself back until he was against the wall. His mouth and nose were bloodied but he looked no worse for the wear. Erwin could only imagine what his chest looked like beneath his torn shirt.

Erwin held a bloody hand out to him and Levi took it after some thought.

"I suppose I should thank you."

Erwin shrugged, wondering why Levi wasn’t disturbed by the two bodies in the alley with them.

"I’ve never met anyone like you in all my years. You’re different."

"As if that’s a bad thing to be."

"It isn’t. It’s exhilarating, really."

Levi was silent and when Erwin looked at him, he saw that his eyes were glassy.

"Die, Jew scum. That’s what they said before they began beating me. How… could they even tell?"

The sound of footsteps reached Erwin’s ears.

"We need to go."

Levi looked up but Erwin was already pulling him down another narrow passage and onto an adjacent street. Someone yelled and his heart jumped into his throat, desperate to escape his body.

"Come on."

Erwin’s hand tightened on Levi’s and they were back into his apartment building as cars tore past on the dark street.

Levi’s chest rose and fell. He licked his lips, leaving behind a trace of moisture that Erwin wanted to kiss away.

They went upstairs in silence. Erwin put the kettle on to boil before seeing about Levi’s injuries.

"I’m fine," he said, pulling his arm away.

"So, we’re back to this already."

Erwin grabbed him again, keeping his fingers locked firmly around Levi’s forearm so he could clean his scraped knuckles.

Levi hissed but remained still.

"I’m sorry for how this morning passed. You need to understand, Levi, that the thought of something happening to you makes me-"

"Murder people in alleys?"

"If necessary."

Levi looked away as Erwin flicked bits of sand and dirt from the chewed-up heel of his hand.

"There."

Erwin kissed his palm gently.

"The thought of something happening to someone with your talent and your possibility," he continued suddenly, "makes me want to tear someone’s throat out. The tide is turning, Levi, and what’s been done to you tonight is the only the surface, I’m afraid."

"Aren’t you being overdramatic?"

"No."

Erwin’s eyes were cold and level. His stare made Levi swallow.

"I’m sorry… for storming out the way I did. You have to understand-"

"I do. I was terrified when I first felt the hunger. It must be strange for you to befriend someone like me."

"It isn’t strange, Erwin. It’s wonderful. It’s…" Levi didn’t have a word for it. Wonderful didn’t reach the height of feeling Erwin had kindled in him. He had awoken something, a fire that was primal and all-consuming, that Levi never wanted extinguished.

"I’ve given so little." Levi’s tone was mournful. He turned his hand over in Erwin’s and watched their fingers tangle. "I want to help in any way I can."

He looked up. Erwin’s eyes had softened. They were so impossibly blue, the color the Seine should have been.

"We’ll see. At some point, we may have to run and never look back."

Erwin touched their foreheads together, breathed in the smell of Levi’s blood. It was a heavy scent, rich and provocative.

He wondered if he would ever get to taste it.

* * *

All Levi asked for was a piano so Erwin gave him one. He gave him an apartment in New York and supported him in his work without having to be asked.

When Levi wasn’t practicing, he was doing what he could to help those destroyed by the war. He got in touch with people back in Paris, learned that Petra had escaped to Switzerland in time for which he was glad, but that his parents had not fared as well.

Levi had always feared the worse and the child in him cried for his parents. As distant and strict as they had often been, they did not deserve to be fed to the ovens of Nazism. No one had. Erwin held him that night, forgoing the hunt to sooth him.

There was no news of his grandparents. Levi liked to think they had died peacefully in their bed before everything really went to Hell.

The door opened and his fingers stilled on the keys long enough to greet Erwin with silence.

Erwin locked the door and hung up his things - scarf and coat with gloves tucked into the pockets. They had learned early on that New York winters could be bitingly fierce.

"Good morning."

"Is it morning already?"

Erwin’s smile was crooked. “You know well enough that it is.”

Levi looked to the windows at his left and squinted. “So it is.”

Erwin set a stack of letters on the bench beside Levi and watched him flick through them carefully, making neat stacks between correspondences and charities he worked with. Everyone was always asking for money.

"Are you sure you can afford all of this?"

"Yes. I’ve had some time to get my finances in order. I would have it go to a good cause." Erwin touched his hair but frowned when Levi tried to deepen the show of affection. "You don’t owe me anything."

"I know I don’t, Erwin." He nipped the underside of his wrist before picking up where he had left off.

The music filled the apartment in waves and Erwin went into the kitchen to put the kettle on to boil. It had become a tradition to greet each morning with a cup of tea. The sharpness of the leaves with the sweetness of cream or sugar made even the winters in America bearable.

Erwin pulled something from his pocket as he returned from the kitchen but Levi didn’t look. He ran his fingers over the marbled edges where the blood hadn’t quite washed away. L.E.B. was still as crisply embroidered as it had been when Levi had wiped the gore from his lips, when he had learned Erwin’s true nature.

"What does the E mean? What is your middle name?"

Levi stopped playing once more. Tension hung between like a thick curtain. He hung his head and smiled.

"You’ll find out eventually, strange man. There’s time.”

**Author's Note:**

> read more stuff by me [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/baccuroth/works).


End file.
